


Scars

by Shiro_Hunter



Category: Code Vein (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23852962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiro_Hunter/pseuds/Shiro_Hunter
Summary: Scars tell the story of the hardships a Revenant has gone through — a symbol of their lost humanity.
Relationships: Louis/Protagonist (Code Vein)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> So this is kind of a special case. I found this drabble in my docs, but it’s about my own MC with my own headcanon more than a vague MC slot (yet I still write it vague bc I am weird like that) that I usually don’t post but it was just too cute not to. So slight personal headcanon content incoming, I guess??? Anyway
> 
> Yes hello did you know Louis has a scar on his wrist, under the glove and can you stop thinking abt it bc (cries) i can’t

Scars tell the story of the hardships one has gone through.

To humanity of old, it used to be a symbol of endurance, of the harshness which one survived through — a symbol of  _ life _ . 

But to a revenant, it’s a little different. With the exceptional regeneration provided by the BOR parasites, revenants rarely acquire lasting marks of past injuries; unless artificially-induced, they would simply heal off. For them, it’s as if time has stopped the moment they made their maiden voyage into the underworld.

So instead, scars evolved to symbolize one’s  _ humanity _ — of the person they were, of the life they led prior to the Great Collapse. 

Yakumo’s told the story of a foolish little boy who spoke up too soon and got a knife to his face as a reward. Jack’s told the story of a revenant who has witnessed too many sacrifices, who offers himself as a vessel to stop anymore sacrifices to be made. Eva’s told the story of a miserable human girl, treated as livestock in this hellish world of revenants and the Lost. And…

“...What about this one?” 

The hero asks, one day, right after he’s finished listening to the tale of the scar that Louis recalls spying on Kevin’s cheek. 

Louis looks up at his hero, who’s tracing the tiny scar on his wrist, where the strap of his glove usually hides it from view. “This? It’s nothing interesting, I assure you.”

The hero smiles. “Tell me anyway.”

Louis huffs. “It’s a bit stupid, really. When I was young, I wanted to help out my family by making dinner — but then my hand slipped while I was trying to cut open the sausage packaging. I cut a major artery.”

“Oh, wow,” the hero cringes in sympathy. “Were you okay?”

“Karen found out. I was taken to the ER, and subsequently banned from even touching a knife without supervision.”

The hero laughs. “Is  _ that _ why sandwiches are the only thing you can make?”

Before he realizes it, a smile has formed on Louis’s lips. He loves it when the hero laughs — when the serious, silent hero shows the warmth underneath that ice-cold shell of his; a warmth that matches Louis’s flames, a warmth that strikes a spark in his heart. He likes to think he’s one of the lucky few to have seen it.

“How about you?” He asks, brushing away his hero’s bangs to reveal the healed scar below his brow, along one of his brilliant green eye. “Can I ask where this is from?”

The aforementioned eye closes as Louis holds its owner’s face, tracing the scar with his thumb. In no time, both of the hero’s eyes fluttered shut as he smiles, leaning into the touch. “It’s not a very uncommon story, you know.”

“ _ Tell me anyway _ , wasn’t it?”

The hero lightly smacks him, and they both chuckle. 

“I got caught in a chain reaction car accident when I was younger,” the hero begins. “Both my parents passed away. I got this from a piece of the windshield.”

“Oh,” Louis says. “I’m…sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s an old story by now,” the hero replies, smiling. “Besides, it wasn’t entirely bad. My younger brother was in school when it happened, and he rushed to the ER after seeing the news, firmly telling the nurse about how he’s my brother and he had the same bloodtype that he could transfuse. He was twelve.”

His smile was contagious. “...Sounds like a brother worth being proud of.”

Louis watches, as his hero gives his most genuine and proudest smile yet. “You have no idea.”

“I enlisted into the army shortly afterwards to support him, but it’s still a bittersweet memory I cherish.” The hero finishes. “This scar is kind of my reminder of the hope that he’s still out there, somewhere…”

_ The  _ **_hope_ ** _.  _ Louis thinks, as he touches the scar hiding the tale of another hero yet again. After a few moments, he takes his hero’s hand into his own, looking on as the green eyes open at the touch of their intertwined fingers.

“Someday, when we get out of here, out of the Red Mist,” Louis says, looking right into his eyes. “Let’s find him. Your younger brother.”

The hero blinks, but smiles nonetheless. “Of course.”

And they both kiss the lips from whence each other’s stories came from — Louis’s hand beside the eye that fluttered shut in bliss and the hero’s fingers around the nimble wrist exposed from its velvet glove. 

Scars tell the story of the hardships one has gone though. 

But at least, they know their story isn’t going to end in solitude.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay safe, everyone!


End file.
